


Tribute to Frigg

by Miko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 08:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17300909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: Christmas with the Lindholms has always been Angela's favourite season, but this year there's a new addition to the 'family' tradition - Genji has made a rare appearance. It's been years since Angela saw him last, but her attraction to him has only grown, and this new, happier version of her old friend is all the more appealing.Seeing Genji lighthearted enough to laugh and tease is a wonderful Christmas present, but Angela didn't account for the combination of that teasing with Torbjorn's penchant for hanging mistletoe everywhere. Somehow, she needs to get through the night without giving away the fact that her feelings toward her former patient might not be entirely appropriate.It would really help if Brigitte didn't seem to find the whole thing so entertaining.





	Tribute to Frigg

Christmas had always been Angela's favourite time of year, but after the fall of Overwatch, it took on a certain extra special quality. The holidays were when she was most likely to see some of her old friends; Torbjorn always invited her for a family dinner on Christmas Eve, and Reinhardt usually tried to make sure he was there as well. It was good to see them, these comrades-in-arms that Angela considered her family.

There was also a note of nostalgia beneath the joy, though, as she thought about the old friends who _weren't_ present. Those who'd died, but also those who'd left. Winston couldn't travel through any civilian means. Tracer was in London with her girlfriend. Jesse had disappeared into the West, returning to America. 

And Genji... well, Genji had just plain vanished. Angela hadn't seen him in years, though he wrote her occasionally to let her know he was still alive and well. Real letters, on paper, _handwritten_. 

She'd kept every single one, bundled up with a silk ribbon in her bedside table drawer, tickled that he'd gone to such effort. The return post stamp was always different, as he wandered the world in his self-imposed exile. She worried about Genji most of all, wondering who was doing the upkeep on his cybernetic body, hoping he hadn't lost himself entirely in his brooding.

She'd always been the one person who was able to break through the darkness he carried with him like a shell, the only one who could win a smile from him. Though he had some understandable trust issues after his brother's betrayal, he'd allowed Angela alone to truly be his friend - and he'd been a good friend to her, in turn. She missed spending time with him.

If missing his company occasionally crossed the line into something closer to longing for him, well, that was between Angela and her vibrators. A few fantasies never hurt anyone, and it wasn't as if he was actively in her care any longer.

When Torbjorn's wife Ingrid opened the front door, the first thing Angela heard was Reinhardt's booming laughter. Delighted, she smiled. Rein hadn't made it for the holidays last year, and she'd missed him. Especially since he'd taken Torbjorn's youngest daughter, Brigitte, for his squire, and so the girl had been missing as well.

"Is Brigitte home too, then?" she asked as she joined Reinhardt and Torbjorn in the living room. It was beautifully decorated as always; Ingrid outdid herself every year, making her home a shining, welcoming beacon of holiday cheer and joy. "It's been far too long since I've seen her. I swear, she's a foot taller every time I do."

"I think she's finally stopped getting taller, though she's taking after her godfather and bulking up," Ingrid laughed. She swatted Reinhardt's massive shoulder. "Learning bad habits from this one, she is."

Reinhardt only chuckled, and wrapped his arm around Angela, pulling her in for an affectionate hug. "Brigitte is a treasure, and I don't know what I'd do without her," he admitted. "Some days she's the only thing keeping me going - if she's not fixing my armour, she's stitching me up."

"I still can't believe you're letting her go out and actually fight alongside you," Angela scolded him. "She's just a little girl, Reinhardt!"

"Letting her!" Reinhardt threw his head back with another deep laugh. "Nobody 'lets' that girl do anything. She knows her own mind, and won't allow anyone to tell her otherwise."

"If you think you can convince her otherwise, you're welcome to try," Torbjorn agreed, his tone a distinct grumble. "She's out back in the training range." Despite his complaint, there was a certain sly quality to his expression that Angela distrusted immediately. She knew her old friend far too well, and that look usually meant he was playing some kind of prank.

"What aren't you telling me?" Angela demanded in her best 'scolding doctor' voice, planting her hands on her hips. 

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Torbjorn replied, not very convincingly. "Go see the lass already."

"She's been talking for weeks about how excited she is to see you again," Reinhardt agreed. He clapped Angela on the back, nearly staggering her. "Tell her it's time to come in and wash up for dinner! Otherwise she'll be out there all night."

Still wary, but wanting to see Brigitte, Angela made her way out to the back of the house. Torbjorn had an extensive workshop back here, larger than the house itself, and part of it was a practice range where he could test the weapons he made. Angela heard the clang of metal against metal, a rhythmic sound accompanied by a swish in between. Then there was a louder crash, followed by a feminine cry of surprise and pain.

Worried, Angela stuck her head in the door of the training range, though she was cautious in case there were flying projectiles. She found Brigitte in power armour, like a lighter version of Reinhardt's, flat on her back on the ground. A power shield and mace were clutched in her hands, and she was struggling to get back up without dropping either.

And standing over her was a man in a different sort of armour entirely - armour she knew very well, having built it herself. He was in the stripped-down version that he’d used more often before Blackwatch was exposed and he had to worry about hiding himself.

“Genji!" Angela barely restrained herself from racing across the room, refraining only because she knew it was madness to jump into the middle of an armed practice session. But she was _so_ glad and relieved to see him, his cybernetics pristine and seemingly working well.

He turned his head toward her, red eyes glowing faintly. She’d learned to read his expressions through his eyes alone, and he was smiling. "Angela. I was hoping you'd make it." His voice was warmer than she could ever remember hearing it, truly happy. 

So many times as she’d reread his letters, she’d imagined hearing the words in Genji’s deep voice. She’d always loved the rather lyrical sound of his accent, and she found the haunting quality of his artificial voice quite beautiful.

The real thing was so much better than she’d remembered, it caused an unexpected rush of longing. Biting her lip, Angela willed away the unwanted feeling. They were friends, and nothing more. She would not risk that friendship over a crush that was inappropriate anyway.

Oblivious to her wayward thoughts, Genji inclined his head in a brief bow. "It's good to see you again. We’ll be with you in a moment; we're pretty much done here."

"We are not," Brigitte protested, finally managing to haul herself to her feet. "I _will_ hit you eventually."

"Only when you stop telegraphing your attacks broadly enough to be seen a mile away," Genji teased her. "That shield bash was so obvious, a child could have avoided it. It's a good technique, but don't just rush in headlong to use it. Sneak up on them, surprise them with it. You did well, overall. You're improving." 

Reaching up, he patted her shoulder. She was taller than him, and probably outweighed him by twice as much with her armour on, but the affectionate touch and gentle praise made her duck her head and blush like a kid. 

"Improving?" Angela echoed, surprised. "How often have you been training with her?"

"Any time I come by this area," Genji admitted. "I happened to be near here when I was damaged a few years ago, so I came to Torbjorn for repairs. Brigitte was just starting to learn to fight, and asked for any help I could give her."

"I didn't know what I was getting into," Brigitte said, rather ruefully. "I thought training with Reinhardt was difficult, but I've never had as many bruises in the rest of my life combined, compared to learning from Genji."

"Bruises are an important teaching tool," Genji replied, and again the smile was audible in his voice. "They will keep reminding you of your mistakes long after I'm gone again. Be grateful bruises are all you're getting. Tracer received far worse when I was training her."

"If you broke bones, it wouldn't be a reminder, it would keep me from practicing," Brigitte pointed out, brow furrowed. "How would that be helpful?"

"Oh, he didn't stop at broken bones," Angela said, very dry. "He nearly cut her arm off, once." Brigitte gaped, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

Genji shrugged, but his eyes danced with amusement in a way she'd never seen from him before. "It finally taught her to use her rewinding ability as a reflex when badly injured. And you were able to deal with the broken bones easily enough. Brigitte doesn't have that level of healing available, so I have to go easy on her."

"If this is going easy, I don't ever want to train with you when there _is_ healing available," Brigitte replied fervently. "So I guess I'm glad you called a halt now that Angela is here, after all."

"It's time to wash up for dinner anyway," Angela told her. "Genji, are you staying?" Surely he hadn't accidentally come by at Christmas, and he'd mentioned hoping she would be there. But he'd always refused to eat in front of other people before, even her, not wanting to show his ravaged face to anyone.

"Nobody walks out of Mama's house without getting fed," Brigitte laughed. "I already overheard her making comments about him being too skinny."

"She knows this body is _built_ , right?" Genji shook his head. "I'm not going to get any fatter no matter how much she stuffs me. But of course, I would not dishonour her hospitality by refusing. Besides," he turned his gaze directly toward Angela, and it warmed further. "I want a chance to catch up with you. Every time I'm in this area, it turns out you're in another country. I would almost think you were avoiding me."

"Never," Angela assured him. A warm flush ran through her at the confirmation that _he_ hadn't been avoiding _her_. Discovering he'd come by to see Torbjorn multiple times without ever visiting her had made her wonder. But she did spend a great deal of her time away from home, working in refugee hospitals and battlefield medical stations. His letters sometimes took months to find her, being forwarded from one place to the next. "I've been worried about you, but you seem quite well."

"Better than well." He walked toward her, inclining his head to the door of the workshop. "There's a lot I couldn't really put in my letters. I'll tell you all about it tonight."

Smiling, Angela fell into step beside him. "I look forward to hearing of your adventures. It’s so good to see you smile!" Even if all she could see was his eyes, it was shocking how much difference a happy expression made.

“I didn’t do much of that before, did I?” His tone was rueful. “I do smile more, now. It feels good.”

"Hey, guys?" Brigitte called after them. Pausing, Angela turned back to look at the girl. With an impish grin, Brigitte pointed upwards.

Angela looked first to the ceiling of the workshop, but didn't see anything. Then she raised her gaze further, and realized there was a sprig of white berries among the holiday decorations over the doorway. "Oh! Mistletoe, really?" She laughed, heat chasing across her cheeks.

"What is it?" Genji cocked his head, curious.

"It's an old Nordic legend," Brigitte told him. "The goddess Frigg promised a kiss for everyone who passes beneath the mistletoe. Since she's not here to give it, if you pass beneath with someone else, you have to kiss them in her place."

"It's spread through the world as a Christmas tradition," Angela added. "Silly, but charming enough that it continues to persist." Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaned in to brush a kiss across the side of Genji's mask, where his cheek would be.

It was strange to be close to him in such an intimate way. Too many of her fantasies started much like this, with some innocent contact. Angela hoped she wasn’t blushing too noticeably as she pulled away.

Brigitte made a rude sound. "That doesn't count! Bad enough you went for a kiss on the cheek, but you didn't even make skin contact."

Angela laughed, even as her blush increased at the thought of making it a proper kiss. "Well, it will have to do for now. We don't want to be late for dinner." 

A storm had blown in while they were talking; thankfully the path between the workshop and the house was covered, though not insulated. Angela was shivering by the time she'd made it the ten steps to the other door. "Ah, now I remember why I don't like coming home in the winter."

"This is nothing," Genji replied. "You should see what it's like in the mountains of Nepal at this time of year. Or any time of year. I have hardly removed my armour once since I first travelled there."

As they stepped through into the warmth of the house, Brigitte cleared her throat. Angela glanced back to see the girl pointing upwards again, and sure enough, there was another sprig of white mistletoe berries above this door, as well. Angela stared at it. "You must be joking. Two doors in a row? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Brigitte was doing a poor job of hiding her laughter. "Papa hangs it _everywhere_ , just so he has the excuse to kiss Mama. He would tell you that you got caught twice because Frigg is angry you didn't pay proper tribute."

"Well, we wouldn't want to anger a goddess," Genji chuckled. "I'll have to take the mask off to eat, anyway." Reaching up, he undid the tiny catches that held the metal covering his face, then pulled the mask off. 

Beneath it, he was still handsome, though Angela knew _he_ believed he was horribly disfigured. There was a great deal of scarring, yes, but that had never bothered her. She was used to looking past scars as part of her job, and to her, they were simply a part of who he was. She thought of them as visible reminders of his incredible tenacity and will to live.

The smile that curved his lips was somewhat warped by the scarring, but still recognizable as teasing. The warmth in his eyes matched it, and she'd never seen him look so lighthearted. He certainly didn't seem to mind having Brigitte see his face, when before he hated anyone but Angela seeing him, and then only when absolutely necessary.

"You _are_ looking well," Angela said, pleased to see the change. This time when she bussed his cheek, her lips met skin that was a combination of soft and scarred. He smelled faintly of sandalwood, and his cheek was warm beneath her touch.

"And you are as beautiful as ever," he replied, turning his head to brush his lips over her cheek in turn. "I have missed you."

The comment flustered Angela further. Perhaps it was the way his hands had settled on her hips to keep her steady when she leaned in, the intimacy of the near-embrace, or her astonishment that he'd admitted to such a sentiment. Or perhaps, it was simply that she'd missed _him_ a great deal, and was embarrassed to acknowledge how much.

Realizing she was simply standing there, clinging to his shoulders as if she was about to swoon, Angela cleared her throat and stepped back. "I've missed you as well," she admitted with a bright smile. "Come, now. Never mind Frigg... _Ingrid_ is the one we don't want to anger!" 

Laughing, Brigitte followed them in. "Better keep an eye above your head while you're here, Angela. You'll end up kissing everyone in the house, at the rate you're going."

"I'll keep it in mind," Angela replied, chuckling as well.

Dinner was a chaotic, noisy affair, as the massive Lindholm clan plus 'adopted' family like her and Reinhardt - and now Genji - crowded around the long table. Ingrid and several of her daughters had been cooking all day, and they'd truly outdone themselves with the feast. Angela found herself seated next to Genji, watching in amazement as he ate with no hint of self-consciousness about his exposed face. He even chatted casually with several of the Lindholm grandchildren, who were thrilled to have a 'real live ninja' to pester with questions.

It was such a striking contrast to his constant brooding, angry moods back in the days of Overwatch that it almost hurt to see him now. The difference truly drove home how much pain and anguish he'd suffered from back then, physical and emotional both. Angela had done everything she could to help him, but while she could heal his body, only Genji was capable of healing his emotional wounds. Apparently, he'd finally taken steps in that direction.

When dinner was over, Angela insisted on taking a turn clearing away the dishes, since she hadn't been present to help with cooking. To her surprise, Genji started picking up plates, as well. She shook her head at him. "Genji, you're a guest, you don't need to help."

"Isn't that exactly the argument you just had with Ingrid?" he teased her. "I can do my part, and I want to. I've never experienced a family holiday like this. I want to do it right."

"Never?" She followed him into the kitchen, astonished by the thought. "Didn't you tell me that your family was close when you were very young, though? I know the Japanese celebrate Christmas, as well as many cultural holidays."

"Oh, we celebrated," he agreed, dumping an armful of dishes into the sink and starting the water running. "But it was only the four of us, and very reserved and traditional. We had servants to wait on us; we certainly never made our own food or cleaned up our own messes. And in Overwatch..."

He trailed off, but she finished for him. "You avoided the parties." He'd been highly anti-social, especially with large groups of people. The few times she or Jesse or anyone else managed to drag him to a celebration, he would lurk at the edges and disappear in short order. That was why she was so amazed and pleased to see him here, handling the noisy, rowdy Lindholms with a smile. 

"I was in no mood for socializing," he agreed, his smile turning twisted. "I thought the last thing I wanted to do was make friends, or let go of any part of my hatred and pain. I was a fool, and I wish I could borrow Tracer's chronal powers to go back and shake some sense into myself."

"What's caused such a big shift in your thinking?" Angela asked. She took the dish he'd finished rinsing off, and placed it in the dishwasher. "You're almost a different person. I'm so happy for you, but now I'm curious."

He laughed. "Would you believe, an omnic monk started following me around, and wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to allow him to help me seek enlightenment?" His eyes were alight with amusement. "Master Zenyatta eventually took me back to the Shambali Sanctuary with him, and I have made a home there. I've learned a great deal from them, including how to accept myself as I am."

He'd mentioned Nepal earlier, but she'd thought he had only passed through the mountainous country in his wandering. "Well, I'm certainly glad he was persistent, then. I never thought I'd see you smile like this. It suits you!" That was putting it mildly. With a light-hearted expression and his smile visible, he was gorgeous. Angela kept sneaking peeks at him as they worked, entranced by the sight.

"I had not realized what a burden my own rage and hatred was," he said. "It took me years to release that negative obsession, but doing so felt like a literal weight lifting off my chest. It's as if I can breathe fully for the first time in a decade." He winked as he passed her the last dish. "Of course, the fact that they've continued the work you started in healing me helps with that, too. I actually _can_ take a full breath."

"It's been nearly two hours since you removed the mask, and you're not having any trouble breathing." Angela closed the dishwasher, studying him with clinical curiosity instead of feminine appreciation, for a moment. "Could you go without entirely, now?"

"Not if I'm doing anything strenuous, and not for nearly as long in the thin air at the top of the world in Nepal." Genji shrugged. "It's nice not to have to rush eating, be able to take the time to enjoy myself. And as a bonus, apparently I get kisses." He paused halfway out of the kitchen, waited for her to take the last step to follow him, then lifted his gaze with a grin.

Looking up with a feeling of amused exasperation, Angela sighed when she spotted the expected mistletoe. "You saw it and waited on purpose."

"Like I'm going to turn down a free kiss?" he teased back. "Maybe Brigitte's right, and her goddess is angry that we're not paying proper tribute. Your last attempt was hardly a peck."

"Because you're such an expert in the art of kissing," Angela replied, flushing. 

"Actually, you'd be surprised," Genji laughed. "I was quite wild in my younger days, before the battle with Hanzo changed me." He paused, and lost his smile, eyes turning serious. "Angela, it's just a silly tradition. If you'd rather keep your distance, I understand. I would never force you to do anything." 

Though he was trying to hide it, there was a note of deep hurt buried in his voice. Likely he believed she was hesitating out of lack of desire, because she found his scarred visage unattractive. He might claim to have fully accepted himself and his existence as a cyborg, but it would still be painful to be turned down for his looks.

The problem was that exactly the opposite was true. Angela had always found Genji attractive, and now that he was happy, he was breathtaking. His smile made her weak at the knees, and that was highly inappropriate. She was afraid, if she let him kiss her properly, she wouldn't be able to hide those feelings of longing. He was only teasing, being lighthearted. She didn't want to ruin their friendship over her crush.

But she might ruin it faster by refusing him, allowing him to think she found him ugly. "Of course you'd never force me," she said softly, reaching up to clasp her hands behind his neck. "Nor would there be any need to. Go on, then. Lets see these skills you're so proud of."

They were so close, barely an inch between them, and she could feel the warmth that his cyborg body radiated. The look in his eyes was hotter still, surprisingly intense, and Angela suddenly doubted her 'only teasing' assessment of his motives. Then his lips met hers, and Angela stopped thinking at all.

He slid his mouth over hers, seducing and enticing, making her hyper aware of the contact. Then he parted his lips and his tongue flicked out; not pushing for entrance, but little licks across the sensitive skin, teasing and tasting her. The very lack of aggression made her want to push forward in turn, eager for more. 

Before she knew what she was doing, she was tangling her tongue with his. He tasted of cranberry and gravy, with a faint hint of metallic overtone. She melted into his arms, chest pressed to the unyielding planes of his body, clinging for dear life. His hands clenched on her hips, holding her there with equal passion, not allowing a hair's-breadth of space between them.

 _Then_ he got serious, responding in kind and overwhelming any defenses she might have had, plundering her mouth like he was a pirate and she was his treasure. Even so, he cared more for her pleasure than his own, seeking out sensitive spots that made her moan. There were more such spots than she'd ever realized, and in moments she was quivering with wanton need.

He groaned in response, a ragged sound of desire that made an answering thrill run through Angela. For one glorious, perfect moment, she forgot about _anything_ other than the taste and feel of the man in her embrace.

Then Genji wrenched himself free, taking a step back to put more space between them. The shock of separation was so unexpected and intense that she actually gasped, and the look on his face was... guilty?

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, a flush riding his cheeks. He dipped his head and shoulders in a short bow, hiding his embarrassment. "That was not... I got carried away. Please forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Angela felt dazed, and she couldn't quite follow the conversation. What was she supposed to forgive him for? The best kiss she'd had in years?

He lifted his head again, but was still blushing, and couldn't seem to meet her eyes. "The others are probably wondering what's taking so long. We should get back to them." Before she could say anything else, he turned and fled for the living room, as if fearing her response.

Stunned, not quite sure what had just happened, Angela stood beneath the mistletoe staring after him. Her breasts felt heavy, nipples tightly furled with desire, and a heated throbbing had started low in her body. In all her wayward fantasies involving Genji, she hadn’t imagined him being so _skilled_. God, if he could make her feel that good with just a kiss, what would it be like to have more?

He was so intense, so utterly focused. She'd never experienced anything quite like it. Being the center of his attention was intoxicating, and she wanted more.

What did he mean, he got carried away? Was it only that it had been so long since he'd last experienced that kind of pleasure, that he'd lost himself in it? Could it really be that he wanted _her_ , and had lost control?

"Angela?"

Brigitte's voice broke through Angela's reverie, and made her jump. She blinked, and focused on the world in front of her, instead of the heated images dancing through her mind. Brigitte had her head cocked, a bemused smile on her lips as she stood in the hall between the kitchen and the living room. Angela cleared her throat, the flush on her cheeks now as much from embarrassment as desire. "I'm sorry, I was woolgathering."

"I can see that." There was laughter in Brigitte's eyes, but she kindly didn't allow it to break loose. "Genji looks like something spooked him. What happened? You didn't have a fight, did you?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Angela wasn't sure she really wanted to explain any of her thoughts to the much younger woman, who was all but a niece to her. Then Brigitte's gaze rose to the mistletoe, and her smile turned knowing. Sighing, Angela admitted the truth. "Things got... a bit awkward, is all."

"Awkward how?" Brigitte wanted to know. "Was it your fault, or his?"

"It was nobody's fault." Angela shook her head, dismissing the idea. If only it was as easy to dismiss the lingering burn of desire. "I'm going to have to keep a much closer watch on the doorways, apparently. It was inappropriate of me to kiss him like that, but the teasing got out of hand."

Was that knowing gleam back in Brigitte's eyes, or was it purely amusement? "Why is it inappropriate? If he enjoyed it, and you enjoyed it, what's wrong with that?"

"I'm his doctor," Angela explained, trying to remind herself as much as make Brigitte understand. "There are ethical..."

Brigitte interrupted her with a merry laugh. "You haven't been his doctor in years. He's not dependent on you anymore. And from everything I've ever seen of him, I don't think you could pressure him into something if you tried. He talks about you a lot, you know. He tries to hide it, but he's always _so_ disappointed when he 'happens' to wander by and you're off somewhere else in the world."

"Really?" Once again Angela was warmed by the confirmation that he hadn't been deliberately avoiding her. Of course, he could have sought her out wherever she was, since he was wandering the world anyway - but it would have been harder for him to come up with a casual excuse to do so.

"Really," Brigitte confirmed, her grin widening. "It's always Angela this and Mercy that. If he was my age, I'd say he has a bad crush."

"That's ridiculous." Angela wondered if the flush on her cheeks was bright enough to rival the red Christmas decorations. It certainly felt that hot. "We're just old friends who miss each other, that's all." And who'd kissed each other senseless under the mistletoe. Or at least, she'd been senseless. He'd seemed rather shell-shocked as well.

Was it really possible...?

"Suuuure you are." Brigitte drew out the word into four syllables, and winked at Angela as she did so. "Just think about it, okay?"

Angela wasn't sure she'd be able to do anything _but_ think about him for the rest of the evening. And she had no doubt that the moment she retired to the guest room for the night, she'd be thinking of him in an even more intimate way. Too bad she hadn't brought a vibrator with her, but her fingers would do the job well enough.

Not half as well as Genji's cock would, though. Oh, God, she mustn't think about that right now or she was going to make a fool of herself in front of everyone. 

When they joined everyone else in the main room, Angela was dismayed to see that Genji's mask had returned to its usual place. Both literally, and metaphorically - though he’d left the visor off and remained cheerful on the surface, the warmth no longer quite reached his eyes, as he shuttered away whatever he might be feeling. He was far too good at hiding his emotions; she'd had to badger him to admit to his real pain levels, back when she'd first been helping him adjust to the cyborg body.

He kept flicking little glances her way, though. She'd learned to read his expressions over the years, even when nothing but his eyes were showing, and he still looked guilty. As if he thought he'd done something wrong, and she'd be angry. Angela wanted nothing more than to go to him, comfort him and assure him that she wasn't upset with him. But then she'd have to explain to everyone else why he needed the reassurance.

Finally, she decided to hell with it. In the general chaos of the crowded party, nobody was paying any attention to conversations they weren't directly part of. Angela let herself drift towards him, where he was once again entertaining a circle of fascinated children with various sleight of hand tricks. Stopping next to him, she shook her head when she saw he was using his shuriken to perform the tricks - and had let some of the oldest kids hold the deadly throwing blades.

"Genji, they're children," she scolded him, trying to hide her amusement. "You shouldn't be giving them live edged weapons to play with!"

"They're _Torbjorn’s_ grandchildren," he replied, unrepentant. "I assume at least the older ones would have respect for weapon safety drummed into them by now. They're being careful." A clamour of young voices backed up that statement, assuring her that they were indeed taking great care.

Angela lost the battle with her laughter. "I suppose you have a point. Very well, then. Carry on. But if anyone slices a finger off, don't think you'll be getting cybernetics like his!" She was fairly certain she saw at least a few flashes of disappointment on their faces. 

She stayed with him, watching with as much wonder as the children as he demonstrated a few more tricks. It was basic stuff, 'finding' shuriken in their ears and dancing the blades across his knuckles, but it impressed the kids and showed off his amazing dexterity. Angela couldn't help but feel a bit of pride when he was able to use his right hand for the tricks as easily as his uncovered left. She'd pulled off a miracle for him, and was glad that he hadn't lost any of his abilities as a result.

He caught her proud smile, and responded with a wink. He seemed to have relaxed now, returning to teasing her instead of giving her guilty looks. Apparently, the fact that she'd come to spend time with him had been enough to reassure him.

When Ingrid hustled the children off to bed - amidst much protesting that they wanted to see just one more trick, grandma - Genji leaned against the wall next to her and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I never realized children took so much energy to deal with," he chuckled. The warmth of his smile had finally returned properly to his eyes.

She just wished she could see the smile, as well. Or better yet, taste it...

Clearing her throat, Angela pushed the thought aside and hoped her blush wasn't too obvious. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off again. "They can be very exhausting," she agreed. "My rounds in pediatric wards always leave me more drained, even though sick children have less energy than healthy ones."

"Do you want to have children?" he asked, cocking his head. "I think you would make a wonderful mother. You are very nurturing." His eyes warmed further. "If you could put up with all of _my_ whining and protesting, back when I was confined to my bed as an invalid, surely you could handle any pack of toddlers."

"You _did_ rather remind me of a petulant five-year-old at times," she said, making him chuckle. "I would like to have children, but it would take so much time away from my patients and research. You know me. I'm married to my work."

"Sometimes, you work _too_ hard to save others, with no thought for yourself," he agreed. "It's okay to be selfish once in a while, you know. That's actually a lesson I had to learn - to let go of my obsession with revenge, I thought I had to go completely in the other direction, give up all 'selfish' desires. But life is about balance. Even the Shambali allow themselves to have personal interests and goals. I am glad to know I haven't angered your significant other with my mistletoe antics, though. Your work does not care if you cheat on it."

He said the last words with a slight upward lilt, not quite turning it into a question, but leaving it as an open statement. Was he sounding her out to make sure she was available? Or just genuinely glad he hadn't caused her to 'cheat' on a partner? "No, there's not anyone," Angela confirmed, trying not to think about the part of her that wished there _was_. Ideally, the person standing in front of her right now.

They hadn't seen each other in years, and he'd changed so much he was nearly a different person, but they seemed to be all positive changes. The attraction she felt toward him had only grown with time, and this happier version of him drew her like a moth to the flame. 

She'd always thought the pining was one-sided. Back in Overwatch, he'd shown no interest in her as anything more than a friend, and some days he’d barely even tolerated that. Since then, only his letters had given her hope that she was important to him.

Brigitte was right that she wasn't his doctor anymore, and hadn't been in a long time. Clearly he'd found others capable of maintaining the delicate systems of his cyborg body, and he was no longer reliant on her expertise. Was there really any reason she couldn't find out whether there was a possibility for more between them?

Well, the best way to start was to get to know who he was now. "Tell me about your time in Nepal," she asked, genuinely curious. "Actually, start with this monk apparently following you around. I'm sure there are entertaining stories involved in that tale."

"Oh, you have no idea," he laughed, and obliged her.

He turned out to be a good story-teller, animated and engaging. Angela listened in fascination as one tale led to the next, and she began to understand how the bitter youth she'd rescued had turned into the happy, well-adjusted man standing before her. He badgered her to talk about her adventures as well, and seemed interested even when she went off on excited tangents about this or that medical breakthrough.

At some point, people began to wish them goodnight, and head off to bed. Angela returned each greeting absently, not really paying attention, until finally she looked around and realized they were completely alone. "Goodness," she exclaimed, staring at the clock on the mantle. "It can't be that late. We've been talking for hours."

"What?" Genji looked around too, his eyes wide, as if he'd been as lost in the conversation as she was. It was rare for him to relax enough to lose track of his surroundings, she knew. He laughed softly. "You're just that interesting to talk to. I've missed you, and I'm glad to get the chance to catch up." He smiled, visible in his eyes despite the mask hiding his mouth. "Will you be here long? Or are you leaving tomorrow?"

She'd planned to stay long enough to watch the grandchildren open presents, hand out a few of her own, then head back to the field hospital. The suffering of her patients didn't take time off for the holidays, unfortunately. Now she found herself selfishly wanting to linger, spend more time with him. "I'm not sure," she hedged. "What about you?"

"I'd say 'until you leave', but I doubt the Lindholm hospitality to a relative stranger will extend as long as that toward an old family friend," he chuckled. 

"If you believe that, you clearly haven't spent enough time around Ingrid," Angela laughed. "That woman would adopt every waif and wanderer in the world if she could."

"Well, then. Perhaps I'll have to take the opportunity to train Brigitte harder, while there are medical services available." He winked, and she could picture his teasing grin beneath the mask. "We should probably sleep too, though." 

"For what little time is left, before the children wake us all at dawn to open presents," Angela replied dryly. "Come along, then."

This time, she knew the mistletoe was above the doorway, because she'd seen Torbjorn stop Ingrid for a kiss several times throughout the night. Genji had obviously spotted it too, because he paused one step away, shifted his gaze to the iconic white berries, then back to meet hers with a question in his eyes. 

"Did you mean it?" Angela asked. "All that passion. Was it for me, or only because it's been a while?" She felt as nervous as a gradeschooler, confessing to her first crush.

"For you," he confirmed, his expression both hopeful and anguished. "Always for you, Angela. I tried so hard for so long to deny it, ignore it, because I didn't want anything other than revenge to be my focus. And I didn't think I deserved something so good in my life. But even at my worst, I was never able to put you aside from my heart."

Angela thought of all his letters, penned with real ink on real paper. He'd gone to a great deal of effort to stay connected to her, and done so in a way that would ensure she understood he thought she was worth that effort. They'd been apart long enough that any infatuation caused by her saving him had surely worn off.

Deliberately, she took the last step backward, so she was standing beneath the berries and facing him. Her heart was racing, her palms sweating, as she waited to see if he would accept the invitation.

Genji froze, staring at her with eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. When she didn't move, waiting hopefully for him to join her, he slowly stepped forward as well. "Angela..."

Reaching up, she undid his mask and slid it free, baring his face once more. He looked uncertain, as nervous as she felt, and it made her smile in response. "Genji," she murmured back, caressing his scarred cheek with her fingertips. "Let's not anger Frigg."

"We definitely wouldn't want to do that," he agreed, his voice hoarse. Once again his hands settled at her hips as he leaned in, and this time he held nothing back as he sealed his mouth against hers.

This was _not_ a chaste kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tangling with hers and tasting her deeply. Angela responded in kind, moaning as she melted against his chest, arms around his neck for support. Her knees were weak, heat streaking through her body as she trembled all over. She'd wanted this for so long, and now her fantasy was coming true.

Genji's hands slipped lower, cupping and squeezing her ass. The metal of his right hand was hard and unyielding, an appealing contrast to the muscled strength of his left. She squirmed in his hold, silently pleading for more. Her back hit the doorjamb as he crowded her into it, leaning his weight against her smaller body. 

It was strange to feel metal against her breasts as she arched into his possessive hold. She wanted skin, wanted to know he was getting as much out of the contact as she was. When he slipped one hard thigh between hers, Angela didn't even try to stop herself from rocking against it, seeking pressure against her core. 

"Please," she whispered against his mouth, and he groaned. 

"Keep begging like that, and Frigg will be getting far more than just a kiss as her tribute," he replied, husky and breathless. "I'll take you right here against the door. Flip your skirt up, and slide straight into you. I have no control where you're concerned, apparently."

If he'd meant the words to be a threat or deterrent, they failed miserably. Angela shivered at the naughty mental images, and a part of her wanted to see if she really could push him into forgetting himself completely. But there was too much chance that someone - including one of the children - might come out for a drink or a bathroom trip and see them.

"Take me to bed," she answered. Then, her lips curving in an impish smile, she added, "Please?"

To her delight, he shuddered, and closed his eyes for a moment as if he needed to gather himself. "Damn it, Angela, I’m not kidding about the effect you have on me. I was so afraid I'd frightened you off, ruined things between us, in the kitchen. I meant to be gentle."

"I'm glad you weren't," she said, caressing his cheek again. "I like this passionate side of you when it's due to desire, not anger. Show me more. Show me everything."

"Be careful what you wish for," he warned her. Tightening his grip on her ass, he hefted her up off the floor. Startled, she wrapped her legs around his waist for balance, her short skirt riding up until it barely covered her upper thighs. Her core ground against the armour plate that protected his groin, and she wished desperately that the metal wasn't in the way.

He carried her effortlessly, kissing her again as he navigated the stairs and hallway without looking. When he reached her door, he shifted her weight to his right hand and fumbled the knob open with his left. He kicked it shut behind them, loud enough that she winced, and they tumbled onto her bed together.

Then it was a race to see who could get the other stripped fastest. Words were lost in the passionate kisses between each article of clothing or metal plate tossed aside. Angela ran her mouth down the side of his throat, where metal met flesh. She could feel his pulse beating, his still-human heart racing with desire until it felt like the flutter of butterfly wings beneath her lips.

Genji retaliated by dropping his mouth to suck her breasts right through her bra, the sheer lace creating a textural counterpoint to the hot, wet suction of his mouth. Her nipple peaked so tightly that it ached, and she cried out when he bit lightly at the nub. 

"Careful," he murmured. "Thin walls, and little ears. Of course, you realize I will take any attempt you make to stay silent as a challenge."

"Not fair," she replied, breathless with desire. "I _want_ you to hear how much pleasure you give me. How am I supposed to resist?"

"I want to hear it," he agreed, biting her again. This time she stifled her cry against the back of her hand, and he chuckled. "I suppose next time we'll have to seek out somewhere more private." Then he went still, as if he'd said something wrong and feared her response.

It took her a moment to realize what had him worried - he wasn't sure there would be a 'next time'. Threading her fingers through his thick, spiky hair, she pulled him up for another kiss. "I intend to have you as often as possible, in any place you want me,” she assured him. “We'll definitely have to find some places with better soundproofing, though, because the 'walls' in my quarters are often tent sides. I have no doubt you're capable of making me scream."

Genji relaxed, and even grinned at her, a teasing spark in his eyes. "Let's find out, shall we?" He pushed her bra down far enough to expose her tight nipples, then dove in again to roll one against his tongue. 

Shivering, Angela again muffled herself with her hand. It had been far too long since her last sexual partner, and she was exquisitely sensitive to every touch. Or perhaps that was a function of _who_ was touching her, because she'd never wanted anyone so badly, for so long. He sucked and nibbled and licked, hand cupping her neglected breast and kneading gently, occasionally pinching the nipple between his fingers.

Finding the catches that held his armour pieces together was more difficult when she couldn't see, but she managed to fumble the rest of his torso armour off. Then she returned the favour, scratching her nails over what remained of his chest, flicking at the smaller nub of his nipple in turn. He groaned, at least as sensitive as she was, and she wondered if he'd had any touch at all since his battle with Hanzo.

Probably not, unless he'd sought out an encounter since this change in his attitude - and from the way he'd talked about wanting her, she didn't think he had. "I'm not the only one who needs to be quiet," she teased him, doing it again. "Are you sure you can handle this double challenge? Trying to make me scream, while trying not to, yourself? Because I won't go easy on you, either."

"Bring it on." His eyes gleamed with desire and amusement. "I live for a challenge." Sliding his left hand down, he cupped her intimately over her panties, palm grinding down against her swollen clit. 

Gasping, Angela arched into the hold. He stroked his fingers over the damp silk, moulding it to the shape of her, playing over her entrance without being able to push in. It was a terrible tease, and Angela squirmed against him, barely holding back her cry. 

"You like that?" Genji asked, his voice a husky rumble that was both playful and heated. "Maybe I should just keeping doing this, since you like it so much." He rocked his palm against her clit in a motion too slow to satisfy.

If she tried to say anything, she was going to let loose that cry, and it would definitely be too loud for the thin walls. Angela bit him instead, sinking her teeth into his left shoulder, letting the sharp sting of pain serve as her protest.

It didn't seem to work, because he only groaned and tipped his head to give her better access. He didn't stop the torturously slow rocking motion, or playing around the edges of her entrance. Swallowing, Angela managed to find her voice, and somehow kept her volume down. "Genji! Please."

That made him shudder, and his next words came out half growl. "What did I say about begging me?"

She smiled against his shoulder, knowing he'd feel the curve of her lips. "That it will get me exactly what I want. Please. I need you."

He swore under his breath in Japanese, a word she'd heard him use often in the painful days when he was first adjusting to his cyborg body. Now it held nothing but frustrated desire, and she loved knowing she had such a strong effect on him. Genji was the most controlled and self-contained person she'd ever met; making him fall apart was its own kind of thrill.

Only fair, since he was absolutely shattering any self control _she_ had.

When he pulled away, she barely remembered to stifle her protest against her hand. He didn't go far, lifting up enough to remove the armour that covered his groin, revealing his stiff cock hanging heavy beneath his belly. Enticed by the sight of it, Angela ran her hand down over his chest to wrap her fingers around the thick length. He was so hard it felt like velvet-covered steel, and he cursed again when she squeezed her hand.

"I want to taste you," she said, and started to slid down the bed beneath him. He tangled his fist in her hair and stopped her, wringing a dismayed protest from her throat.

"If you get that gorgeous mouth anywhere near my dick, I'm going to embarrass myself," he told her, his voice shaking. "I need you too badly, Angela."

"Oh?" Though she was a little disappointed, Angela was also flattered by the power she clearly held over him. "Well, perhaps I'm not the only one who needs to do some begging, then."

"Please," he said immediately. It startled her, this proud, stoic warrior so humbled by desire for her. "I will do anything to pleasure you. Tell me what you want."

"You," she replied, squeezing one last time before releasing him. She wound her arms around his neck again, smiling up at him. "I want you. Come inside me, Genji. Make us both feel complete."

"Yessss." The word was hardly more than a metallic hiss. He fisted her panties and tugged them down, baring her at last. Angela finished undoing her bra, tossing it aside so she was utterly bare to him. Genji surged over her, gathering her into his arms and settling so his hips were in the cradle of her thighs. His rigid cock rubbed against her vulva, teasing the slick folds but not pushing inside yet. His voice was strained with the effort of holding back when he spoke. "Angela, is it..."

"Safe, yes," she interrupted, anticipating his worry. Though she hadn't had sex in a while, she was careful to always be protected, just in case. "I promise. Please, please, pl... ah!" Her litany of begging was interrupted by his forceful thrust, driving into her hard enough for her to feel it all the way to her soul. Her body was tight, fighting the intrusion, but wet enough that there was little friction to stop the glide of flesh against flesh. Panting, Angela clung to him, revelling in every inch.

Genji filled her so perfectly, big enough to stretch her without reaching the point of discomfort. When he started to move his hips, a slow and gentle rocking motion meant to allow them both to adjust, Angela couldn't hold back her moans. She did her best to muffle them against his shoulder, because her hands were clinging tight to his back and she didn't want to let go.

He was groaning too, and not doing any better at stifling the sounds. As his thrusts ramped up, the bed itself joined in the chorus, old wood protesting the rocking movement. At least there was no headboard to bang against the wall - though in that moment, Angela wouldn't have asked him to stop no matter if they woke everyone else in the house.

Every time he withdrew, her inner muscles clenched in protest at the empty sensation. Every time he thrust back in, she cried out at the satisfying fullness. Better yet, he shifted his weight to his right arm, and slipped the left hand between them, fingers searching for and finding the slick nub of her clitoris. When he stroked it in counterpoint to his thrusts, Angela lost herself to the molten lava racing through her body.

Orgasm overtook her so fast she couldn't hope to hold it off, though she'd wanted to enjoy herself as long as she possibly could. Her inner muscles clenched around him, and he groaned, a desperate sound. Genji didn't let up, working her through the waves of pleasure, stroking her with both fingers and cock right into a second climax hard on the heels of the first.

"Genji!" Angela fell apart in his arms, writhing against his body, her heart beating so fast she thought it would surely burst through her ribs at any moment. She was shaking with the force of her pleasure, hands clenched against his back until it was a wonder he didn't protest her nails driving into his left shoulder. Still he kept going, pounding into her hard enough that she was pushed back against the pillows each time.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Angela arched up into each thrust, encouraging him with her body to take whatever he needed from her to find his pleasure. "That's it," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "God, you feel so good. Genji!"

"Angela!" His answering cry was guttural and broken, almost anguished as he shuddered and came to rest against her. She felt the hot spurt of his seed inside, and squeezed herself tight around him to wring as much pleasure from him as he had from her. He groaned, hands clenching on her hips, where they'd come to rest at some point during the pounding.

Breathless, Angela slumped beneath him, simply soaking up the feel of him against her. He was unlike any other lover she'd ever had, hard metal in some places and soft skin in others, and the contrast felt amazing. Heavy, though, and she was glad when he rolled off her after only a moment to gather himself. Going with him, Angela tucked herself up against his left side, head on his shoulder, listening to the frantic beat of his heart, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he panted for air.

"You're amazing," she told him, just in case there was any doubt. 

He chuckled, and curved his arm around her back, hand coming to rest possessively at her hip. "You're the amazing one," he said, still husky and rather breathless. "Next round, I will take my time, though. I want to taste every inch of you. I want to lap at your pussy and feel you fall apart against my tongue. Then I want to push inside you while you're still coming, feel you squeeze around me."

His words made a new rush of heat pour through her, and Angela squirmed as her over-sensitive clit pulsed in reaction. "That sounds like fun," she agreed, nearly as breathless as he was. "Is there anything I can do to get you ready faster? Maybe do some tasting of my own, since you liked the idea so much?"

"Depends." His grin was decidedly cheeky, and also very smug. "Are we planning to get _any_ sleep tonight, and have you changed your mind about caring if the whole house hears us? Because you were already doing a bad job of stifling yourself, and I guarantee you won't be silent if we keep going."

"Brag," she accused, her tone light to make sure he knew it was only a tease. "I don't believe you. I'm perfectly capable of... oh!" He'd smacked her ass, more sound than force, but it still stung in the best way.

"Sleep is for the weak," he declared, and rolled her over so he was on top of her again. "I have been planning all the things I want to do to your beautiful body for far too long. It might take me awhile to get through the list. Like, years."

"Then I guess you'd better get started," she said, framing his face with her hands, and pulling him in for a kiss. He indulged her with it, sweet and slow this time, seeking and finding all the pleasure spots he could to make her moan.

Then he shifted downward, and Angela clung to his hair, already shivering with anticipation. 

Thank Frigg for mistletoe.

* * *

When Angela woke the next morning, she found herself alone in the bed. There was a dent in the pillow next to her, but the sheets were cool, indicating Genji had been up for some time. Glancing out the window, Angela was surprised when she saw the sun was well up. She'd expected the shouts of the excited children to wake her at dawn, as usual on Christmas morning. Had she truly slept through it?

Well, that probably wasn't surprising, considering everything Genji had done to wear her out. She'd come so many times she'd lost track, and in the end she'd begged him to stop, unable to handle any more. Then he'd simply held her as she collapsed into an exhausted sleep, blissfully wrung out from his attentions.

Angela had rather hoped for another round in the morning, but she'd slept in so late, she didn't blame him for getting up instead. He'd always been an early riser - usually she was, too.

The rich scent of bacon and eggs wafting up from the kitchen meant she at least hadn't slept through breakfast. The Lindholm house felt enough like 'home' to her that Angela simply slipped into a nightgown and robe; everyone else would still be in pyjamas as well. It was Christmas tradition. 

She made her way down the hall, and laughter from the family room indicated most of the adults were still in with the children, opening presents. It wasn't _too_ late, then. She'd grab some coffee, and perhaps some biscuits, and join them.

As she approached the kitchen, she heard Brigitte talking to someone within. "...told you it would work!"

Genji's deep voice answered her, and he sounded amused. "Just as you promised, oh wisest sensei. In this, I am your student. It worked like a charm - she even dragged _me_ into the doorway for the last kiss."

Eyes narrowed and hands on her hips, Angela stepped into the kitchen. "Excuse me," she bit out. "Are you saying that whole mistletoe escapade was _planned_ between the two of you?" 

Both of them jumped and turned to face her. Brigitte held a plate of Swedish crepes, while Genji cradled a mug of what smelled like coffee. The identical wide-eyed, dismayed expressions on their faces made Angela's lips twitch with the need to laugh, but she suppressed it with effort.

"Busted," Brigitte sighed, but a grin crept through her guilt. "What can I say? The way the two of you are always pining over each other drives me crazy."

"I do not pine," Genji protested, but there was a distinct flush on his tan cheeks. Someone had cajoled him into fuzzy sleeping pants and a brightly coloured Christmas sweater, and he looked rather adorable.

"He refused to agree to just _say_ something to you," Brigitte continued, gesturing with her fork. "So I convinced him to try the mistletoe tactic. That way, he could see if I was right that you wanted him too, without risking ruining your friendship."

"I especially like the part where he pretended not to know about the tradition at all." The smile was getting harder to hold back, but Angela managed to keep her expression stern. “And it didn't occur to either of you that I might not appreciate being manipulated?"

"It wouldn't have been a problem if you'd never found out," Genji muttered, soft enough that she wasn't sure he'd meant her to hear it. Unfortunately for him, she had very good hearing. It was so very ninja of him, figuring there was no harm as long as the intrigue was never brought to light. He looked annoyed at being caught, rather than guilty like Brigitte.

Well, if she was going to be with him, Angela already knew she had to accept him as he was. A somewhat warped moral compass was only to be expected, with his history. She’d be more upset if he hadn’t made it clear before the kiss in the kitchen that he wanted it to be _her_ choice. And Brigitte had been doing her best to help two friends be happy together, even if she should have known better about the method.

Sighing, Angela let the smile break free. "I suppose I can forgive you, this once," she said, and stepped up next to him, tucking herself against his side. He made a startled sound, but obligingly wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her close. She kissed him on the cheek, sliding her arm around his waist in turn. 

"So long as I'm the only one you kiss like _that_ under the mistletoe," she added. "And of course..." She looked up, and they were close enough to the doorway that they could arguably be said to be standing beneath the white berries once again.

"Ah. Well, who knows how much tribute Frigg will consider 'enough'," he chuckled, and kissed her. It was sweet, and slow, and everything she could possibly have wanted for Christmas.

This was truly the best present ever.


End file.
